


The Game Has Changed

by loki_godofmischiefandlies



Category: Avengers, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: AU-crossover, AvengeLock, BAMF!John, Crossover, F/M, M/M, Parent!lock, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loki_godofmischiefandlies/pseuds/loki_godofmischiefandlies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been eight years since the attack on Manhattan, and nine since Sherlock Holmes had to fake his own death. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes have started a life together, and have even adopted a son. What they don't know is that Hamish's father is a very powerful and very angry god from Asgard. Sherlock and John have to enlist the help of the Avengers in order to get their son back, and they will stop at nothing until Hamish is safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

It was an ordinary Sunday afternoon in 221B Baker Street. The sun was shining brightly, John was tapping away at his laptop writing another blog post, and Sherlock was performing an experiment that John prayed wouldn’t set the kitchen table on fire…again. However, a shrill scream from upstairs shattered the peace. John slammed his laptop closed and Sherlock accidentally dropped a beaker of acid when the wail of “DAD!” echoed down the stairs.

For once in his life, John outran Sherlock and threw open the bedroom door. A terrified boy of seven years old sat trembling in the center of his bed. John let out a sigh of relief and smoothed down shaggy black hair before hugging the boy to his chest.

“Hamish, what’s wrong?” John asked quietly, noticing that the boy was trembling uncontrollably. Sherlock appeared at the top of the steps and quickly crossed the room so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“He’s coming for me.” Hamish whispered.

“Who is?” John asked. Hamish clamped his jaw shut, and Sherlock sat up taller before addressing his son.

“Who is coming for you Hamish?” he asked, his voice low and clear.

“My real father.” Hamish whimpered. Sherlock’s face contorted in confusion, but he didn’t say anything as John rocked Hamish against his chest consolingly.

\-------

“Sherlock, where would he have even gotten an idea like that?” John asked as the two men sat in their respective chairs that night. Sherlock sighed heavily and sipped at his tea for a moment, his eyes glazed over in concentration.

“I don’t know John.” Sherlock finally confessed. “But he was absolutely terrified. I’m…I’m contacting Mycroft.”

\- - - - - - -

“Sherlock, we have absolutely no idea who Hamish’s biological father is. The mother refused to identify him and died shorty after Hamish was born. Hamish’s DNA doesn’t match anyone else’s in the repositories I have access to…it was probably just a nightmare.” Mycroft said gruffly.

“I have experience with nightmares Mycroft,” Sherlock began, looking pointedly at John, who scowled, “and this was no nightmare. Whatever it was, it was very real to my son and I will not stop until I find out who is threatening him!” Sherlock snapped before storming out of the office, John at his heels.

\- - - - - - -

John and Sherlock didn’t have long to wait to find out who was threatening their son. The following Thursday, as John was cooking dinner in the kitchen and Sherlock was helping Hamish with his history project (which Hamish, much to his teacher’s distress, had chosen to do on Jack the Ripper). The windows in the sitting room exploded with a crash, and Hamish screamed in terror before scrambling into Sherlock’s arms. John tore into the sitting room and pulled his gun from its holster, which Lestrade had given him after a very complex, nationally important case that left Sherlock with a knighthood and John with permission to use lethal force to keep Sherlock safe at all times.

“Your primitive weapons will have no effect on me.” A cold voice jeered, and the family turned to see a tall, ghostly pale man with long black hair and hard green eyes grinning like a shark in the doorway of their flat.

“You have five seconds to get out of here before I blow your damned head off.” John snarled, cocking the gun and aiming at the stranger’s head. The metal slowly melted and dripped into a puddle on the floor between John’s fingers, and Hamish whimpered. Sherlock tightened his grip on the boy and glared at the intruder.

“What do you want from us?” Sherlock demanded.

“I want my son.” the stranger hissed.

“He’s not your son.” John growled.

“Oh, but he is. Isn’t that right Hamish? You’ve been learning that all on your own though.” the stranger chuckled, and Hamish buried his face into Sherlock’s chest, clinging to the lapels of his suit desperately.

“Leave now. We’ll give you whatever it is that you want, money, protection, whatever…just leave Hamish alone!” Sherlock said, his voice cold and his face set in stone.

“I want my son!” the stranger roared.

“Over my dead body!” Sherlock yelled back, and the man grinned evilly.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” he smirked before John and Sherlock fell unconscious to the floor. Hamish screamed and tried to fight his way out of the stranger’s grip, but he was unnaturally strong. Just as John and Sherlock came to, Hamish and the stranger disappeared.

“HAMISH!” John screamed, his hands snatching at the air desperately.

\- - - - - - -

“Ballistics reports came back negative for anything…we don’t know what caused the windows to blow out like that, but we’re going to find out Sherlock, I promise.” Lestrade said quietly, looking pleadingly at Mycroft. Mycroft was sitting in a chair with his fingers pressed to his lips in a manner that was more commonly seen on his brother, but Sherlock was sitting with his knees curled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. John was pacing back and forth angrily, like a caged animal waiting for escape.

“And you said that they just disappeared, right John?” Mycroft asked. John nodded.

“Out of thin air. Gone. Vanished.” John snapped. Mycroft sighed heavily and ran a hand through his thinning hair before taking his cellphone out of his pocket.

“I have an…acquaintance who may be of some help, but I can make no guarantees.” Mycroft said before standing up and moving to the hallway. A few moments later John’s cellphone was ringing.

**Blocked Number**

John looked at Lestrade anxiously, and the DI nodded for him to answer the call.

“Hello?” John asked cautiously.

“Hello Doctor Watson. This is Director Nick Fury with S.H.I.E.L.D... Now I just received a report claiming you may have sighted one of our biggest threats…can you describe the man who took your son to me?” A gruff voice barked, not sounding sympathetic at all. _Government officials_ John thought bitterly before clearing his throat.

“Um, yes…he was approximately 1.8 to 1.9 metres tall, incredibly thin, long, black hair, very pale…green eyes, if I remember correctly.” John explained. Sherlock nodded in agreement, but did not lift his head to add anything to the conversation.

“And you said that he knocked you both out, and that just as you started to wake up he disappeared with your son?” the director asked.

“Yes. Just…vanished.” John answered weakly.

“Doctor Watson, I’m going to need you and your partner to pack your bags.” the director said.

“Why?” John asked.

“You’re coming to the United States.” 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock travel to the United States and have a meeting with Agent Coulson. Loki and Hamish have a bit of an argument.

“We don’t have _time_ John!” Sherlock cried when John threw a small duffel bag at him. John rolled his eyes as he stuffed clothes into his own bag. Basic toiletries were dumped on top and the bag was zipped and slung over his shoulder within five minutes.

“Hurry up!” Sherlock almost yelled, and John glared at him before packing his bag for him too. As soon as both bags were slung over John’s good shoulder, and their passports were tucked into his back pocket, John was being whisked out the door by a highly irate Sherlock. Mycroft’s car was waiting at the kerb.

“Mycroft, explain to me again why we need to go to the United States. I don’t see how the man who took our son has crossed an ocean in less than four hours.” Sherlock snapped as soon as the door was shut behind them. The car began moving, and Mycroft sighed heavily.

“Because, dear brother, you have no idea who you are dealing with for once in your life. My contacts in the United States not only know who you are dealing with, but just how dangerous he can be. Does this man look familiar to you?” Mycroft asked, tossing a manila folder onto Sherlock’s lap. Sherlock opened it and pulled out several glossy photos of a tall, pale man with long black hair dressed in incredibly strange clothes.

“That looks like medieval battle armor.” John muttered, eyeing the pictures warily. His stomach dropped when he looked at the face though. In every photo the man had a crazed look in his eyes, and some of the pictures were of him holding odd weapons, looming over corpses…Sherlock snapped the folder shut and rubbed at his eyes with the pads of his fingers.

“That’s him.” Sherlock muttered.

“Sorry?” Mycroft asked almost smugly.

“That’s him. The man who took our son!” Sherlock growled, head snapping up to deliver a particularly venomous look in Mycroft’s direction.

“And that, dear brother, is why you are going to the United States.” Mycroft said, his face almost looking sympathetic.

“Who is he?” John asked, his voice sounding cold and hard. Sherlock handed him the folder, which had an unfamiliar crest printed on the front. It was an eagle in a circle with the words STRATEGIC HOMELAND INTERVENTION ENFORCEMENT AND LOGISTICS DIVISION written around it. The folder had a large red CLASSIFIED stamp on the top, below which was written a name.

Loki Laufeyson.

“Loki, huh?” John asked quietly.

“I’m sorry John.” Mycroft sighed.

“Oh, don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the sorry son of a bitch whose death certificate you just signed.” John growled, pulling the top photo out of the file. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the inside pocket of his brown leather jacket. Sherlock looked at him almost stunned.

“John, I’ve never heard you speak like that before.” Mycroft said, not holding back the astonishment in his voice.

“You’ve never seen somebody who was stupid enough to threaten my family.” John replied, pulling out his gun to check the cartridge. The rest of the ride was silent.

\- - - - - - -

“My father will find you.” Hamish said quietly, his icy eyes locked on Loki. Loki let out a harsh laugh and shook his head.

“You’ll learn soon enough. That man who took you from me, who raised you as if you were his own, he will fail you. He will eventually realize you are not his child, that you are unworthy of anything he has, and then he will abandon you!” Loki snarled, clutching Hamish’s jaw tightly. Hamish stared at Loki emotionlessly.

“No he won’t. Father might be hopelessly incompetent when it comes to social interaction, but he loves me. And so does Dad. Oh man, when Dad finds me, you’re going to be in a world of pain.” Hamish said, smirking in a Sherlockesque manner.

“They are not your parents. I am your father!” Loki growled.

“No. You’re not. You left me to die. My mother _did_ die. Where were you then? You’re obviously powerful, why didn’t you save her? I sat in an orphanage in Germany for three years before Dad and Father met me and took me in. They’re my parents, not you.” Hamish snapped, yanking his face out of Loki’s grasp.

“Tell me then, if you’re so trusting of them, do they know about the magic?” Loki whispered, his eyes glinting. Hamish paled.

“How do you know about it?” Hamish croaked.

\- - - - - - -

Ten hours later, John and Sherlock were sitting in a debriefing room aboard the Helicarrier, John’s hands wrapped around a cup of coffee and Sherlock tapping his fingers against the table anxiously.

“Doctor Watson, Mr. Holmes?” a voice asked. Both men turned to see a man of average height with thinning brown hair standing in the doorway.

**_Ordinary at first glance, stance indicates high levels of military and martial arts training. Gun worm on left side of body, right handed. Shoes have red, sandy soil on them, just flown in from the Western United States, New Mexico or Arizona based on the coloration and grain size._ **

“Yes, that’s us.” John said, standing up and effectively destroying Sherlock’s train of thought.

“I’m Agent Phil Coulson. I’m in charge of the group that is looking for Loki Laufeyson as of right now.” the man said, offering John his hand.

“Pleasure. I’m John, that’s Sherlock.” John said, shaking the man’s hand firmly. Sherlock nodded and continued to examine the man with glassy grey eyes. Phil shifted uncomfortably; he had heard rumors about Sherlock Holmes’s mental capabilities, but now that he was under the scrutiny of the man’s gaze, he was beginning to realize they weren’t rumors based on fiction.

“Well let’s get down to business, shall we?” Phil asked, drawing up a holographic screen. Sherlock’s eyebrows peaked in interest; he enjoyed new technology.

\- - - - - - -

“According to our records, the last known sighting of Loki was shortly before he arrived in your flat in London.” Phil said, drawing up a world map. There were green, yellow, and red dots scattered across it.

“When and where was that?” Sherlock asked, examining the map carefully.

“Our facial recognition software picked up a glimpse of him in Vienna approximately one hour and forty three minutes before he appeared in London.” Phil said.

“How is that possible? You can’t possibly travel from Vienna to London in under two hours.” John asked weakly.

“Loki is very powerful. We’ve done extensive research on him, aided by his brother. He’s a sorcerer, capable of many impressive feats, the least of which is teleportation from one city to the next.” Phil explained.

“And what do these dots mean?” Sherlock asked, motioning to the map.

“Green is a sighting by either the facial recognition software or an agent. Yellow means an incident that we have connected to Loki but didn’t get a sighting of him in. Red means that he was spotted _and_ he did something less than savory.” Phil said. John’s eyes locked on the red dot over London and his hand flinched towards the gun on his side.

“All in good time Doctor Watson.” Phil said, shooting him a sympathetic grin. “We have to find the monster first.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock meet some of the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a bit of a filler, but I wanted to introduce some of the Avengers other than Coulson to the story.

“So what are you thinking?” John asked that night as he shoved his duffel bag under the bunk that he had been given on the Helicarrier.

“I’m thinking that these men and women are extraordinarily dangers, very well trained, and they have resources that would make even Mycroft green with envy.” Sherlock said, sitting on the bed across from John’s.

“So you think we’ve made the right choice then?” John questioned, studying Sherlock’s face. As usual, the marble planes were unreadable, but the kaleidoscopic eyes were dark and serious.

“Yes.” was Sherlock’s reply before he leaned forward, propping his arms up on his knees. His fingers steepled beneath his chin, and John knew that he was delving into his mind palace. So John took the time he knew would be spent in complete silence otherwise and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower.

\- - - - - - -

“What do you think Tony?” Bruce asked, nodding towards the screen where Tony had drawn up the security feeds from the Helicarrier. Tony leaned back in his chair and scratched at his beard idly for a moment.

“Not sure. This Holmes guy has got a lot of crazy shit in his past. Solves all sorts of crimes, can read you like a book within seconds of seeing you, faked his own death to dismantle an international crime syndicate…he’s probably pretty interesting. But I’ve also heard that he’s got an ego to rival mine and the social skills of a brick.” Tony explained, pulling up various files, some of which were top secret British government files. Bruce leaned against the back of Tony’s chair and read the files over his head.

“Huh. And his partner, Doctor Watson?” Bruce asked, pointing to the name which had been referenced in almost every file after 2010.

“Surgeon, army medic, honorable discharge after receiving an injury in Afghanistan, works part time at a surgery in London…he seems like a pretty normal guy, but his army records indicate that he was a crack shot, nerves of steel…a doctor that kills people. A very interesting combination.” Tony said, pulling up John’s files. Bruce’s face darkened slightly before returning to its normal state.

“Yeah, interesting.” he muttered before returning to his lab table, where he had been working on an experiment prior to their conversation.

\- - - - - - -

A few hours later, a knock at the door startled John out of his sleep and Sherlock out of his mind palace. Sherlock was the first person to the door since John was busy trying to untangle his legs from the sheets.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but uh…dinner’s about ready if either of you are hungry.” a tall, broad, blond man said, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot.

“You’re a military man, obviously high in the ranks but not the highest due to your extreme discipline. However, your body doesn’t show the usual wear and tear signs that come from holding a gun. Why?” Sherlock responded. The blond blanched and John sighed heavily, running a hand through his sandy hair.

“Sorry, he does that. His way of introducing himself.” John said, rolling his eyes. “John Watson.” John extended his hand. The blond shook it firmly and nodded once, a slight smile crossing his face.

“Yeah, I read the file on you two when I found out you were being flown in. It’s a pleasure to meet you Captain Watson, Mister Holmes.” the blond replied, chipper now that he was over the initial shock of Sherlock being Sherlock.

“John, please.” John immediately replied, his eyes crinkling as he offered the blond a smile.

\- - - - - - -

“I’m Captain Steve Rogers, US Army…well, I was US Army but now I work for SHIELD.” Steve grinned. It was nice to no longer be the only military man on board. Sure, a lot of SHIELD agents were former military, but they lost that sense a long time ago. Steve eyed Sherlock warily; he had read about his brilliant mind, but hadn’t believed it up until that point.

“I’m uh…I’m a bit of an oddity Mister Holmes. To make a very long story short, I was injected with a serum that enables me to heal much more quickly than the average man. I don’t get callouses or any of the usual things that come with holding a gun or fighting.” Steve explained as a peace offering. Sherlock had been eyeing him with a cold, calculating stare until that point.

“Interesting.” Sherlock said, his face brightening slightly.

“No!” John immediately snapped, and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“I’m going to assume that I missed something here.” Steve muttered.

“He’s going to ask you for a sample of your blood. Just say no.” John grumbled before grabbing Sherlock around the arm and steering him out of the small room. Steve laughed and quickly followed them.

\- - - - - - -

“How many agents are on this ship?” Sherlock asked as they walked into the canteen. The room was buzzing with people, and he was sorely tempted to turn around and walk the other way. He would have, had John not been holding onto his arm.

“There are anywhere from sixty to two hundred agents on the ship at any one time, although it can be run at full capacity with just twenty five operatives.” a deep voice said from behind them. Sherlock wheeled around to observe a tall, bald, dark man wearing all black and an eyepatch.

“You must be Director Fury.” Sherlock said, holding out his hand. Fury shook it briefly and then examined Sherlock and John closely.

“And you two must be the dynamic duo themselves. I’ve heard a lot about you from your brother Mr. Holmes, and I must inform you that your shenanigans will not be tolerated on my ship. If you blow anything up, it had better be in the R and D labs, and with the express permission of Doctor Banner and Mister Stark.” Fury said before turning around and walking away, his coat snapping as he went.

“I can see why Mycroft likes him.” John chuckled. Sherlock simply scowled.

\- - - - - - -

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the two newest additions to our big awkward family. The name is Stark, Tony Stark.” Tony grinned, looking up from his meal when Steve walked over with Sherlock and John.

“John Watson.” John said, offering his hand. Tony eyed his hand warily and nodded.

“He doesn’t like being handed things, and lately that has extended to being handed hands. Bruce Banner.” Bruce intervened when he realized Tony wasn’t going to shake John’s hand.

“Pleasure.” John grinned.

“I was under the impression that marijuana was illegal in the United States.” Sherlock said when Bruce turned towards him. Bruce’s face paled and then flushed.

“It’s not when you’re Bruce.” Tony intervened. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Oh come on…you don’t know about Bruce?”

“Tony…” Bruce said in warning.

“Of course, you must be the Hulk.” Sherlock immediately realized, and John pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ignore him. He’s rude at the best of times.” John sighed.

“No, it’s fine.” Bruce smiled weakly. Sherlock opened his mouth and John glared at him.

“Sherlock, for the last time, _no_. We discussed this on the plane and if I have to remind you again so help me god I will have Mycroft take you off of this case.” John snapped. Sherlock swelled up and his jaw snapped shut, ticking in the corner.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” Tony laughed maniacally. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish's lessons with Loki; John and Sherlock wonder what staying on the Helicarrier is doing for them, they meet Clint Barton.

“Gerroff me!” Hamish screamed, flailing his arms and legs hopelessly as he struggled against the strong, thin fingers clutching at his collar. Loki chuckled darkly and hauled the boy up higher so that translucent blue-green eyes met emerald greens as cold as the stone of the same color.

“I’m just teaching you a lesson little Hamish. Don’t fret. I won’t let you get hurt…too much.” Loki hissed before heaving Hamish off the roof of the building they were standing on. It was an abandoned warehouse on the coast of a rather neglected South Korean island, and nobody was around to hear Hamish’s blood curling scream as he plummeted towards the rocky earth. At the last moment he threw his hands out in front of him and jerked to a stop, his elegantly long, pale nose just centimetres from the gravel road leading away from the warehouse. His heart thundered in his chest and he let out a terrified sob before falling the short distance to the ground. Loki appeared next to him and nodded in approval.

“You’re learning quickly my little one. I am so proud of you.” Loki purred in Hamish’s ear, wiping tears from the boy’s cheeks as Hamish curled in on himself and continued to quake and sob in fear.

\- - - - - - -

“What is staying on this ship going to do for us?! It’s been three days and we haven’t seen hide or hair of Loki _or_ Hamish anywhere!” John screamed, slamming his fist against the metal wall of the helicarrier. The hit echoed through the room, and Phil and Nick exchanged a nervous glance.

“Doctor Watson, it may take quite some time to find Loki if he is trying to hide…but we don’t think he’ll hide for long.” Phil said slowly, adjusting his tie uncomfortably. He was good at dealing with a lot of things, but an incredibly stressed out father whose son had been abducted by a vengeful alien god was not exactly on his list of things he had a lot of experience with.

“And why is that?” Sherlock snapped, his cold eyes flickering into an icy shade of white-blue that was so pale it was almost translucent.

“Because Loki is a full scale diva.” Tony said, sauntering into the room. Nick groaned inwardly; Tony Stark was never good at dealing with emotional issues, and he did not want the engineer anywhere near the two British men aboard his ship.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock asked.

“Last time we saw Loki, he tried to take over the world, but it wasn’t your ordinary, covert takeover. No. He brought an alien army into our city and used my building, which had just been unveiled as the first independently running green energy structure in the world and was therefore getting a lot of attention, as the base for his portal device. He wants lights, cameras, applause…the whole shebang.” Tony explained, waltzing over towards John and Sherlock. Sherlock categorized the types of machine oil embedded in the rough, tan skin of his hands as one dipped neatly into a bag of freeze dried blueberries and popped a few into his mouth.

“So you’re saying that he’s going to use Hamish as some sort of…showboat?” John questioned, his brows furrowing and creasing his bronzed forehead. Tony pointed at him.

“Bingo.” he said, holding out the bag. John took one without even thinking about it, and chewed on it thoughtfully.

“But what could Hamish possibly have that would make him a…a trophy child for Loki?” Phil asked, leaning against the console next to him. Tony shrugged, and Nick looked equally clueless. Sherlock and John however exchanged a look.

“Loki said that Hamish was learning that Loki was his father all on his own…but I have a feeling that was even before the nightmares, with the way he said it.” John finally said, running a hand through his silver streaked blond hair.

“Yes, but what does that mean?” Sherlock asked irritably. Nothing about this case made sense to him. It was all emotions and vengeance and right and wrong and all he knew was that his son was in danger and there was nothing that his superior mind could do to fix it.

“Remember all of the strange things that’ve been happening around the flat for the past few months?” John asked quietly. Sherlock’s mouth formed and ‘o’ and he nodded.

“He’s been developing abilities similar to Loki’s.” Sherlock finally muttered.

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, almost alarmed.

“Hamish has been involved in things that are odd by even our standards. Lab equipment that explodes without him touching it, fires spontaneously erupting in the fireplace and threatening to burn the rug to a crisp, animals showing up in our flat in the dead of night…and not like rodents, I’m talking big animals. Like crows and owls and stuff.” John explained, twisting his hands together nervously. Phil, Nick, and Tony all sighed collectively.

“Why didn’t you report that to someone?” Nick finally ground out.

“Because…” John started.

“Because they wanted to protect their son. Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear. Clint Barton.” Clint said from the doorway, unfolding his arms and offering his hand to Sherlock. Sherlock shook it and was immediately cataloguing everything he could about the man. ** _Archer, acrobat, maybe even a military past…but who in this place isn’t a master at something?_**

“Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock replied.

“What do you know about protecting kids Clint?” Tony snorted. Clint’s face flushed violently and his jaw clenched before he let out a slow breath and looked Stark in the eye.

“I may not have kids Stark, but I damn well know what it’s like to have someone in your life you would give anything to protect, even if they’re considered by others to be something wrong or dangerous.” Clint growled. Tony’s face drained of color and he quickly stuffed a few blueberries in his mouth before offering Clint some, which the archer declined.

“Anyway, what I mean is…well, you two probably thought Hamish was a mutant, right? And with all the anti-mutant bullshit being spewed all over the place, it’s no wonder that these two didn’t pipe up. From what I hear Holmes is a smart guy.” Clint explained, his composure coming back to him as he turned away from Stark. John nodded sternly.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen hospitals turn away mutant patients because they were afraid of contamination or some other nonsense.” John added weakly.

“Well then it is a good thing for you that your son is not a mutant.” Nick Fury said.

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“He’s Loki’s son, so he’s not a mutant, he’s half alien. Half alien god to be clear. Loki and Thor’s people are incredibly powerful. Some say they’re immortal. Your son is bound to be powerful with a gene pool like that.” Phil clarified.

“I just don’t want to test that theory.” John sighed quietly, more to Sherlock than anyone else.

\- - - - - - -

“Push the energy, control it Hamish! It is not separate from you, but rather an extension of your own self.” Loki explained, moving around Hamish slowly. Hamish’s face was balled up in concentration, a pulsating blue orb of pure energy floating around him, creating a barrier between him and Loki.

“I’m trying!” Hamish ground out as the ball flickered and then blared back to life. Loki snapped his fingers and the ball vanished. Hamish’s arms fell against his legs with a small thump.

“You are doing well. You have learned much in the past week son.” Loki praised, his cold eyes burning with a sinister pride.

“Don’t call me son.” Hamish growled for what felt like the hundredth time that week. Loki sighed, almost as if he were suffering, and ruffled Hamish’s hair. He ignored the fact that the boy stiffened beneath his touch.

“You’ll accept it soon enough Hamish, just as I accepted my true parentage.” Loki smiled, his scarred lips curling. Hamish raised his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” Hamish asked quietly. Loki chuckled darkly and crouched down so that he was eye level with the boy.

“Let me tell you a story about a king who took more than one prize from a temple after winning a war.” Loki purred, and Hamish was entranced instantly. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team receives a video feed from the Swiss Alps. Nobody likes what they see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait guys. I've been absolutely swamped with finals/Christmas/New Years/family craziness and I haven't been able to put much work into my more in depth fics. So I hope this chapter makes up for it even though it's a bit angsty.

“Odin was the most powerful and brave soldier in all of Asgard. He was also the king. The Asgardians went to war with another realm many years ago, and as always, they won. When Odin went to the temple to destroy it and steal the Casket of the Winters, the ultimate blow to the Jotuns, he found a baby there. The baby was small, pathetically so for a Frost Giant’s offspring, and so Odin took pity on the child, who was obviously the son of the Jotun king. He stole the baby, who had been left to die, and the Casket, and returned to Asgard. He raised the Jotun alongside his own son, disguising him as an Aesir and giving him everything he could want. But soon it was obvious that the child was unusual for a son of Asgard. He was strong in sorcery and shapeshifting, considered to be feminine arts in Asgard. He was smart…incredibly so, and so the Asgardians began to reject him. Little did the boy know, but that included Odin. Eventually he discovered his father’s ruse, and his father denied him his ability to rule and watched as he plummeted from the edge of their world into the depths of space. He didn’t even try to find the body. However, when he discovered the boy was alive, instead of rejoicing like any father should, he turned on him, wanted to lock him away forever. Do you understand what I am saying Hamish?” Loki explained, his long fingers running through Hamish’s loose curls. Pale and detached looking, Hamish finally nodded.

“You’re saying that when they realize I’m different, they’ll treat me the same until I do something they don’t like…then they’ll get rid of me.” Hamish whispered.

“Yes. But you and I Hamish? We are the same. I won’t ever abandon you.” Loki purred, his silver tongue coming out to play and giving his voice a velvety, comforting edge instead of its usual sharpness. Hamish looked at him with wide eyes and then he nodded again.

“Okay.” he croaked before allowing Loki to gather him up in a tight hug. He didn’t cringe this time as the tall god touched him.

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Sherlock sat in a small room off the control room with his legs folded up against his chest. His eyes were wide and unseeing as they stared out the window, and anyone could pick up on the despair emanating from the lanky man. Sherlock jumped violently as someone entered his vision and sat beside him.

“I’m sorry that this is happening.” Bruce said quietly, his hands folded between his knees as he gazed out the window. Sherlock examined him closely. **_Still under the effects of marijuana, but not enough so to be considered high. Just relaxed. Has slept comfortably for the past few nights, although not alone. Beard rash slightly above his collar suggests Stark as his bedmate. Burns on fingers and palms indicates that he is experimenting with corrosive chemicals, or has been in a small lab accident recently._**

“That’s what everyone says.” Sherlock gritted out, and Bruce didn’t flinch at the man’s cold, grating tone. Instead, he felt something shift in his chest, and he checked the impulse to hug the man.

“Yeah, and I’m sure most, if not all, of them mean it.” Bruce replied calmly, rubbing his hands together. “We might be a really weird mix of people, and half of them are spies and liars, but…none of us like seeing family taken. From anyone.” he continued, and this makes Sherlock relax slightly.

“You lost someone close to you after your accident, didn’t you?” Sherlock asked. Bruce’s face grew sad, but he nodded.

“Yes. My…girlfriend. I was in love with her, and she loved me even after the accident but…things happened. Times changed, we changed. I mean, I found love again, but it still stings sometimes.” Bruce explained, eyes wandering to Sherlock’s face. Sherlock looked cold and impassive in every part but his eyes. His eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors, and beneath the fascinating coloration were an impossible sadness, a boiling rage, and a heart wrenching fear all at once. Sherlock turned those all seeing eyes on Bruce, and saw not pity, which disgusted him, but empathy. Bruce felt the pain of loss, and despite being childless, knew just how terrified Sherlock was of losing Hamish.

“Hamish is just a child. I don’t…I don’t know what I’m going to do if he’s lost mentally or physically.” Sherlock finally admitted, his voice cracking ever so slightly. Bruce threaded his fingers together and put them under his chin, which was shadowed from two days without a razor.

“SHIELD has extensive resources, and if Hamish goes through any trauma, they will be able to help him.” a soft voice said from behind them. Bruce and Sherlock both jumped, and Sherlock turned to see a leggy redhead standing in the doorway. His eyebrows furrowed. He couldn’t get anything from her at all. Her clothing was nondescript, SHIELD-issued, worn once or twice. Her skin unmarred, her face impassive. It was more unsettling than the first time he had met Irene. “Natasha Romanov.” she said, walking over and holding out her hand. Sherlock shook it and gleaned that she was right handed and good with guns.

“Sherlock Holmes.” he replied, eyes still desperately seeking some sort of information from her. He looked again at Bruce. **_Has had sex within the past 24 hours, had a bagel for breakfast_**. So it wasn’t his eyes. Natasha laughed, noticing exactly what he was trying to do, and sat down on the other side of him.

“It won’t work. I’ve been specially trained not to give anything away, and the training was so intense it has…slipped into my personal life as well. Nobody can get a read on me.” Natasha explained, and Sherlock nodded at this, a small smile gracing his lips.

“It is…unsettling when I can’t deduce a person.” Sherlock replied, steepling his fingers beneath his chin and watching Natasha with interest.

“That’s what you call it then? I never really had a name for it. Just sort of…do it.” Natasha chuckled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Sherlock’s eyebrows rose.

“You can deduce?” he asked.

“Sure. I’m probably not as good as you are, but I can still gather the information I need from looking at a person. For instance, I just saw your husband a few minutes ago. He’s about forty five, forty six years old, ex-military, wounded in combat, left shoulder. He ate eggs for breakfast, has a severe addiction to tea, and likes to hide the fact that he’s absolutely ripped for a man his age beneath baggy sweaters and plaid flannel shirts to make himself seem like less of a threat. Also, he’s been toting around a sig that is probably _not_ legal at all for the past four days.” Natasha said, her voice never once giving any sign of emotion. Sherlock grinned.

“You are good. However, the gun is beyond legal. He has, for lack of a better term, a license to kill from the Queen herself. I know you don’t recognize the Queen but the gun is possessed legally.” Sherlock said.

“It’s always something.” Natasha mumbled, a flash of disappointment crossing her face before slipping back beneath the mask.

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“We’ve just received an alert from Switzerland. You may want to come with me.” Phil said, knocking on the doorframe to Sherlock and John’s room later that day since the door was open. John had been sitting on his bed, cleaning his gun when he heard him. John looked up and immediately popped the magazine back into place. The look on his face was terrifying even to Phil, and Phil stepped aside as John got up to walk into the hallway.

“Show me.” John demanded, and Phil had to rush to keep up with him as they headed for the debriefing room.

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There, they were met by Sherlock, Natasha, Bruce, Fury, and Clint. Sherlock looked impossibly stressed, his face paler than usual and his hands shoved deep in his pockets to hide the fact that they were trembling. John immediately moved to his husband’s side and wrapped and arm around his waist, hugging him tightly from the side. Sherlock melted into the movement and John felt his entire thin frame tremble.

“It’s alright Sherlock, he’s going to be fine.” John whispered, rubbing small circles against his hip to calm the shaking detective.

“Alright, so we have just received intel that Loki and Hamish are in Switzerland, somewhere in the Alps. We’ve sent in drones by both land and air to get video feed, and this is what we got back. You um…may not like this too much.” Fury said, tapping away at the screen on the desk before video popped up. The film was high quality despite being from a drone, and showed Loki talking to Hamish.

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_“I don’t think I can.” Hamish said quietly, his eyes wide with fear._

_“Hamish, it’s okay. You can do it.” Loki replied, touching Hamish’s cheek lightly in reassurance._ Sherlock can feel his stomach churn at the easy touch, and John stiffens noticeably. Both of them want to know why Hamish isn’t running away screaming, and the room is full of a thick tension that centers around the two men.

_Hamish turns to a man who is wearing ragged clothing, and is pleading in French._

_« S'il vous plait! Je ne voudrais pas à mourir! Je n'ai pas fait quelquechose mauvais! » he  pleads. Hamish is shaking at this point, and his face is pale. Loki squeezes his shoulder gently, and Hamish takes a slow breath before moving his hands. There is a small flash of light and the man drops to the snow, a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth._

“NO!” John screamed, lurching at the screen as if to stop Hamish. Even Natasha is looking mildly ill, and Bruce has to step out of the room. John and Sherlock turn to each other and immediately hug, both of them crying quietly as Fury cuts the feed. Sherlock clings to John desperately, not trusting himself to stand upright on his own.

“He’s just a boy!” Sherlock croaked, looking pleadingly at Fury. “He’s just a boy and that monster has driven him to kill! Find him! Please.” Sherlock begged, and John only held onto Sherlock more tightly. Clint’s face morphed into anger and he stormed from the room. Natasha ran after him, her soft voice murmuring in Russian as she went.

“We’re trying. We think that Loki is still in the Alps, but we aren’t sure. Hamish notified him later of the presence of a drone and so they could have moved after it was destroyed.” Phil explained. Sherlock turned to him, glaring.

“You _idiots_. There is no way they’re still there! How could you let them see it?!” Sherlock hissed.

“Your son is extremely observant, no doubt a trait he learned from you Mr. Holmes. Our technology is the best in covert operations that the world has to offer. If your son can see it, that’s no fault in our design.” Fury answered calmly.

“Don’t you dare blame us for this!” John snapped. Fury held up his hands in a calming manner.

“I am not blaming anyone for this Captain Watson. I am simply reminding you and your husband that Hamish is a very intelligent boy with extremely strong powers. It is going to take time to find them and get Hamish back to you safely.” Nick said, and John relaxed slightly.

“We don’t have time. He _killed_ a man today, and if that…that…monster gets to him anymore, he might not even remember us!” Sherlock stammered, his face showing all of his emotions for once. His high cheekbones were flushed and wet with tears, his eyes wide with the fear of a father about to lose his son. His arms were wrapped tightly around John, who was obviously his rock, and his body was shaking like a leaf.

“I know Mr. Holmes. Believe me, I am doing everything in my power to get your son back to you. There’s a reason that the Avengers have been called in on this. We’re still trying to get in touch with Asgard. They have a man there who may be able to help us as well.” Fury said. “Agent Coulson, I think Mr. Holmes and Captain Watson should return to their room now. They need time to process.” he added quietly. Phil nodded and then carefully ushered them out of the debriefing room and down the hall to their room once more.

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The second the door was closed, Sherlock let out a sob that he had been keeping locked in his chest. He sank to the bed looking like a ghost and John sat next to him, pulling the taller man into his side.

“I know Sherlock. We’re going to get him back. I promise.” John whispered, rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head. Sherlock whimpered and clung to John.

“I can’t even do anything for him John. I am useless. The only thing in the world that was important, the one job I had that mattered to me more than anything else, was protecting Hamish and I have failed. Now he’s being warped by some…alien and killing people. Our innocent, brilliant little boy John. Killing people.” Sherlock rambled, his tears slowing and being replaced with anger.

“Sherlock, this isn’t your fault. There was nothing we could do. You saw what Loki did. He melted my gun with his _mind_ Sherlock. This is our best chance of getting Hamish back, and we’re doing everything we can. Our biggest job is going to be when we do get him back. We’re going to have to help him recover.” John explained. Sherlock shivered at the thought.

“What are we going to do John?” Sherlock whispered.

“I don’t know.” John answered honestly, holding Sherlock close as they both drifted off into a restless sleep. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock see Hamish in person for the first time since he was taken. it doesn't go well.

Natasha found Clint sitting up in the highest part of the helicarrier checking his bow for any damage from their most recent battle.

“Clint, vam nuzhno uspokoitʹsya.” Natasha said, walking over and carding a hand through Clint’s hair. Clint leaned into the touch and let out a shaky sigh.

“Tasha, I just watched an innocent little kid kill a man because Loki told him to. I know you understand why that makes me so upset.” Clint replied, his voice gravelly and his face a mixture of rage and fear. Natasha nodded once and sank down so that she was sitting beside him.

“You’re thinking about what happened to me in the Red Room.” she mumbled. Clint reached out and squeezed her hand tightly.

“It’s pretty similar, isn’t it? Being taken at a young age, having your mind twisted until you believed the people twisting it, and then killing for them because they asked nicely or promised you something in return…I don’t know if I can handle watching that happen to him. I mean, it’s so obvious that his parents love him to death. Sherlock looked like he was going to pass out, and from what I hear that man shows little to no emotion.” Clint explained, and Natasha brushed her thumb across the top of his hand reassuringly.

“Clint, both of us have dealt with this sort of thing…I’ve dealt with being brainwashed and forced to kill as a kid, and you’ve dealt with having Loki in your brain to play. We’ll be able to help him.” she said as she reached up to touch his cheek gently. Clint bent down and kissed her slowly.

“I sure as hell hope you’re right Tasha.” he murmured, and then he went back to checking his bow.

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It was another three days before they caught sight of Loki and Hamish again. This time, the two were in Australia, hiding in the Outback.

“If this feed shows Hamish hurting anyone, don’t even think about showing it to us right now.” John growled as soon as they walked into the debriefing room. Fury winced at this and shook his head.

“No, but this feed is far from reassuring. It seems that Loki has managed to grow closer to Hamish in the past few days.” Fury said, turning on the video feed. It was night, and a small fire was crackling in the center of the screen. Next to it sat Loki, and Hamish was sprawled out beside him with his head in the man’s lap. Loki’s long, pale fingers were carding through Hamish’s hair, and the two of them appeared to be exchanging pleasant conversation. The drone, which had had a camera upgrade so that it could record at a farther distance, was too far to pick up the audio. John’s hands clenched into tight fists and Sherlock stared at his own hands, remembering the feel of Hamish’s silky curls against his fingers. He closed his eyes as if in defeat and slowly left the room, looking more like a shell of a man than the usually confident being he was.

“He’s getting stronger.” Fury said quietly. John nodded in understanding, knowing that Fury was speaking about Hamish’s abilities. This also told John that Fury had been finding more video feed than he was showing; John’s stomach churned and he had to excuse himself from the debriefing room.

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Steve found John in the bathroom. The man had barricaded himself in the stall furthest from the door and the sound of retching filled the tiny room. Eventually there was a flush and John stumbled from the stall shaking.

“I’m sorry John.” Steve said quietly, and John shook his head.

“I don’t want sympathy. I want my son back.” John growled before swishing his mouth out with water and spitting it into the sink.

“I know. And we’re doing everything we can to do that for you. Intel said that Loki and Hamish have been in Australia for the past three days, ever since Hamish found the drone in Switzerland. We’re moving out at 0600 tomorrow.” Steve said, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt almost nervously. John raised his eyebrows.

“Why are you telling me when you’re shipping out?” he questioned. Steve smiled at him softly and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ve talked to Fury. You’ve got military training, and Sherlock is absolutely brilliant. If you want, you’ve been granted clearance to join us. Maybe seeing you will help Hamish fight back even if this first rescue mission doesn’t go according to plan.” Steve explained. John stared at him for a moment before nodding.

“I’ll be there. I’m sure Sherlock will want in on this too.” John said firmly.

“You’ll need to be fitted for armor then. We don’t send anyone out unprotected. Go get Sherlock and meet me on the bridge in ten minutes so I can take you to the armory.” Steve said before turning on his heel and striding out of the bathroom quickly.

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Sherlock and John were on the bridge within five minutes. Both of them had looks of determination so fierce that it was frightening and John’s hand was resting on his gun instinctively. Steve offered them a small, knowing grin and jerked his head for them to follow him. They found themselves in a large room manned by two younger looking agents.

“I need full military combat gear for Captain Watson and something lighter but equally protective for Mr. Holmes. Can you do that?” Steve asked the agent nearest to him.

“Yes sir. Follow me Captain Watson; your gear will be easier.” he said, and with that John followed him. He emerged from the aisles of gear about twenty minutes later in what appeared to be standard US military gear, but instead of camouflage it was black. Sherlock walked over and rested his hand on John’s plate protected chest. They exchanged a look that could only be described as silent communication, and then Sherlock nodded. John shifted from foot to foot, looking almost too comfortable in the heavy gear. The agent then whisked Sherlock off to find him something as well.

“It’s weird being back in military gear. Never thought I’d do it again.” John said quietly once Sherlock was out of earshot.

“I know how you feel. I never thought I’d pick up my shield again, and here I am seventy years later fighting bad guys like it’s my job.” Steve said with a faint smile.

“It is your job.” John replied with an arched eyebrow.

“Good point.” Steve laughed. They fell into a companionable silence until Sherlock reemerged from the equipment room. He was wearing something comparable to Clint’s body armor, except it was long sleeved and was accompanied by a light helmet. John raised his eyebrows and quickly moved to examine it.

“What is this stuff? It looks too light and flexible to protect against any real damage.” John said to the agent.

“It’s a specially reinforced metal mesh of a composite we are not permitted to identify at this time. But it’s strong; Hawkeye and the Black Widow both have it lining their suits.” the agent replied. John eventually nodded in approval.

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John squinted and scanned the sandy stretch of land around them for signs of life other than animals. The sun was sweltering, but it was nothing compared to a summer in Afghanistan. Sherlock stood beside him, his face flushed and sweating; John knew that Sherlock disliked the heat, but he wasn’t able to worry about him at the current moment. They were closing in on the area that the drone last saw Loki and Hamish, and the SHIELD team was a few miles out from them.

“Come on, they should be over near that outcrop of rock.” John said, and Sherlock nodded before following him quietly. John’s pack was loaded with water, food, medical supplies, and ammunition; they had no idea what state Hamish would be in, and they knew Loki would most likely put up a fight.

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Loki heard the two men approaching before he saw them. However, he decided that Hamish was loyal enough to him now that it would not be a threat on his son to allow them to see him.

“Just call for me when you want me to return.” Loki whispered, kissing the top of Hamish’s head before disappearing. Hamish stood and glared resolutely at his fathers as they approached the rocky outcropping that he had been sitting near.

“Hamish!” John breathed in relief, immediately dropping the gun in his hands to embrace the boy. He was thrown back about thirty feet and landed in the sand with a winded ‘oof’. Sherlock’s eyes grew wide and he sucked in a harsh breath.

“Hamish, please.” Sherlock said quietly, approaching him much more slowly. He felt the wall of energy around the boy but he wasn’t thrown back.

“Please what? Please come home so I can get rid of you when I get bored? Please come be my little guinea pig until I’m done all my parenting experiments? Spare me.” Hamish hissed before flinging Sherlock back. His head cracked against the ground and he moaned; he had been wearing a helmet a minute again.

By the time John and Sherlock were able to regain consciousness, Hamish was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translation was from Google. my apologies. should translate to "you need to calm down."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor arrives from Asgard and explains part of Loki's story to Sherlock and John. John feels bad, Sherlock finds it difficult to care.  
> Basically, this is mostly Norse mythology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So like I said in the summary, this is A LOT of Norse mythology. Loki's crazy needed to be explained and so I explained it using the resources I had available to me. I'm sorry if you already know these stories, but they are VERY important in later chapters...and the sequel I'm planning (yes, there will be a sequel. I think.) 
> 
> Things to note:   
> There is speculation as to whether Freyja and Frigga (the goddess the giant asks for in the story of Sleipnir) were the same person. For the sake of simplicity, I'm saying they are. I apologize if this is a mistake. I'm not an expert on Norse mythology. Or any mythology. 
> 
> I'm really not sure if Loki was raped by Svadilfari or if he willingly had sex with him. So yeah. 
> 
> Unbeta'd as usual, concrit and comments welcome and appreciated <3

Sherlock stumbled into the bathroom of their small room on the helicarrier and promptly threw up. Not only was he concussed from the blow his head took when he was thrown by Hamish, but he was so upset that he didn’t know how else to process the emotions coursing through his system. John rubbed soothing circles into his back and handed him a glass of water when he was finished being sick.

“John…he…he thinks he’s an experiment to me.” Sherlock croaked once he was able to leave the general vicinity of the toilet for an extended amount of time.

“No he doesn’t Sherlock. That’s just Loki in his head.” John said soothingly. Sherlock let out a sob and wrapped his arms tightly around John.

“I know but I just…I can’t deal with this John. I’m still so new to allowing myself to feel and everything _aches._ It’s killing me John. If I lose Hamish, I won’t…I won’t be able to live.” Sherlock sobbed, and John closed his eyes as tears ran hot and fast down his own cheeks.

“Sherlock we’re going to get him back. We might not get him back completely in one piece, but you know damned well that we’ll put him back together again. He’s going to be okay Sherlock.” John murmured, kissing Sherlock’s head and his wet cheeks even though he wasn’t sure he believed the words himself. Eventually they were able to calm down enough to fall into a light sleep.

They were jolted awake by the sound of thunder.

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“Where is he?!” Thor bellowed as he stormed into the control room of the Helicarrier. Fury turned slowly.

“Thor, it’s about time you showed up.” he said dryly. Thor clutched Mjolnir more tightly and was almost instantly in Fury’s space.

“Spare me your sarcasm man of rage. I come seeking Loki.” Thor growled. The ferocity in his eyes made Nick take a step back, and he held up his hands in surrender.

“We aren’t entirely sure. We last saw him in Australia but he’s since moved location and our surveillance system hasn’t been able to locate him as of yet.” Nick explained, pulling up video feed on his monitor and showing it to Thor. Thor looked disgusted as he watched the video of Hamish slaying the Swiss man.

“Loki has gone too far this time. I will find him and return the child safely to you.” Thor said.

“Thor, I suggest you speak to the boy’s fathers first. They are obviously very involved in this mission and I don’t want anyone doing anything rash and risking harming the boy.” Nick said. Thor furrowed his eyebrows.

“The boy has two fathers?” Thor questioned slowly.

“Yes. It isn’t always the norm here on Earth, but it happens. I assure you that he is in a very loving household though.” Nick said wearily. Thor thought about it for a moment and then nodded.

“On Asgard it is not uncommon for two men to lay together…although they are not capable of bearing children.” Thor said.

“Thor, I suggest you speak to Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson about this.” Nick sighed, and Thor nodded before stomping off to find the two men.

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A loud knock at the door caused Sherlock to jump; he was still incredibly ill thanks to his head injury and his emotions were dulling his senses even further. John bit back a growl of irritation and opened the door.

“Holy shit.” he breathed, taking in the man standing at their door. He was tall; taller than Sherlock even, and was positively rippling with muscle. He was dressed in what looked like medieval battle armor, only a bit more alien, and had a thick red cape draped behind him. A large hammer completed the look.

“Um…can I help you?” John asked, finally finding his voice.

“I know not; that is what I have come here to find out.” Thor said. John was surprised by the depth and gruffness of his voice, but he stepped aside to let the lumbering man into their room. Thor shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot before clearing his throat.

“I am Thor Odinson. I hail from Asgard-“ he began.

“Isn’t that where the son of a bitch who stole our son is from?” John snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously. He suddenly wished that his gun was in his waistband and not tucked safely into the bedside table drawer. Thor sighed and ran a hand through his long blonde hair.

“Yes. But I am not he, and I come only to help you.” Thor answered.

“He’s not lying.” Sherlock supplied quietly, and John nodded for Thor to continue.

“The man who took your child…his name is Loki. He is my…adopted brother.” Thor began. Sherlock’s eyes widened significantly, and he shifted so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Tell me everything.” Sherlock demanded.

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“A very long time ago, thousands of years if I am going by the Midgardian calendar and what little I understand of it, my people were involved in a war with the Jotuns. The Jotuns are from another realm…planet…whatever you wish to call it. They are Frost Giants, and their king was Laufey. My father, Odin, defeated the Jotuns in battle and took two prizes from their temple as a victory prize. The first was the source of much of their power, the Casket of Winters. The second…the second was a child. The baby was incredibly small for a Jotun’s offspring, and my father immediately knew it was the son of Laufey. Because of his small size, the child was left to die. My father took pity upon him and brought him back to Asgard where he and my mother raised him alongside me and our other brothers. All was well until a few years ago Loki realized his true heritage. He was distraught. You see, we were raised being taught that the Frost Giants were monsters. Animals that deserved to be slain or controlled. Loki also realized that my father had never really intended on giving Loki a chance at the throne despite both of us being told that the chance was equal. He felt betrayed…unloved. It warped his mind and he fell into madness. The man that you have seen is naught but a shell of the Loki I grew up with. He has been mistreated and hurt by the Asgardians for longer than I care to recall, and I am trying to repair the damage, but it is a long and arduous process. I have no idea why he feels a claim to your child. He has had several children before this, all stolen from his arms, and perhaps he just wishes to make others feel that pain.” Thor explained. Sherlock and John sat there in silence for what felt like hours before Sherlock spoke.

“Hamish told us that he was nothing but an experiment, a toy if you will. I am beginning to think that Loki pushed the idea on him by telling him his own tale.” Sherlock said quietly. Thor’s eyebrows furrowed.

“But why would the child be affected so severely by my brother’s tale? He is your son.” Thor questioned. John and Sherlock exchanged a look.

“I’m not sure how things go on Asgard, but here on Earth two men can’t actually birth children.” John said slowly. Thor’s eyes widened in understanding.

“He is adopted as well.” he murmured, earning a nod from Sherlock and John.

“Yes. And…we have reason to believe that Loki is actually the biological father of Hamish.” Sherlock offered. Thor sighed heavily and scraped his hand down his face.

“This is problematic. Loki was fiercely protective of his children, and when they were taken from him he often went into fits of rage and despair unlike anything I have ever seen.” Thor said. John and Sherlock swallowed heavily; they knew exactly the feeling.

“Why were they taken?” Sherlock asked almost reluctantly. Thor’s face grew uncomfortable and he pulled over the chair from the small desk in the corner and sank into it.

“Loki is…not exactly what you would consider a traditional parent. He is a sorcerer and a shapeshifter. He is also a Jotun. This means that he is capable of many forms, and is…capable of both siring and rearing children.” Thor began before clearing his throat.

“He’s a hermaphrodite?” John questioned. Thor gave him a confused look.

“It means that he has the reproductive organs of both a man and a woman.” Sherlock clarified.

“I am not sure if that is the best way to put it, but from what I have learned it is close enough. Loki is able to change gender on a whim. He carries the body of a man most times, but he is capable of almost any other form imaginable. This is where Loki’s children come into play. His first child is Sleipnir. When we were young, Odin wished a wall to be built around Asgard. Around the same time, a strange horseman came to Odin and claimed that he could build a wall around Asgard in eighteen months. His price was Frigga, our mother, and the sun and the moon. Loki said that if he was able to build the wall in only six months with no help but his horse. The deal was made. However, we did not know that the horseman was a giant in disguise, and that his horse was equally strong. As the six months almost came to a close, Odin told Loki to do something. Loki changed himself into a mare and lured Svaðilfari, the horse, away. From there it is unclear as to whether Loki was overpowered by the stallion or allowed such couplings to happen, but he was not seen for another eleven months. I slayed the giant, and when Loki returned he came with Sleipnir, an eight legged horse faster than all other steeds and able to journey into the land of the dead. Odin took Sleipnir and made him his steed. Loki was, and I believe still is, infuriated by this.” Thor said, his hands moving as he spoke and his face flushed almost in embarrassment. John let out a low whistle and Sherlock looked genuinely interested.

“So your brother had a horse baby and your dad rides it?” John asked. Thor nodded grimly.

“That’s…disturbing.” John finally said. Sherlock nodded in agreement before speaking.

“You said there are more children?”

“Yes. Loki’s wife Angrboda bore him three children. She is a Jotun like Loki. We are still unsure as to why their offspring took on such monstrous forms, but it may have something to do with Loki’s sorcery. The first child was Fenrir. He is a giant wolf, and he tore off our brother Tyr’s hand. The Norns say that he will consume Odin at the coming of the Ragnarok. Because of this, Fenrir is bound on an island to live in solitude until that day comes. His second child is Jormungandr, and I believe he is known as the world serpent. He is an enormous serpent who was cast down to Midgard and lives in your ocean. We think. His last child, Hel, was born half alive and half dead. Of all Loki’s children, it is her that received the least cruel treatment. She was sent to Niflheim to rule over the dead. Loki is…unable to find his children other than Sleipnir.” Thor explained.

“If Hel is in Niflheim, why doesn’t Loki just go there?” John questioned. Thor looked greatly troubled by this.

“Except when one is upon Sleipnir’s back, it is impossible to journey into Hel’s kingdom alive.” he finally said. Sherlock sighed heavily and ran a hand through his black curls.

“I know that this is all very sad and troubling, but why does this justify Loki taking our child?” Sherlock snapped. Thor cringed visibly at this, and scratched at his beard.

“It does not justify his actions, but it does explain them. I am here to seek out Loki and bring your son back to you. If I cannot appeal to the side of Loki that hurts with the loss of his children, I will do battle with him, and I will _not_ lose.” Thor said firmly, clenching Mjolnir tightly.

“And what if Hamish rises against you? Will you slay him?” Sherlock asked, eyes narrowed in distrust. Thor thought for a moment and then shook his head.

“No. The boy has had his mind addled by my brother. He is not called silver tongued for naught. I do believe the damages done can be repaired though.” Thor said before standing. “I will speak to you again soon, but I feel it is time to allow you both rest and time to think about what I have told you.”

Sherlock and John couldn’t help but weep not only for their own son, but for Loki’s children once Thor left.

“I hope we can help him.” John whispered. Sherlock’s face was torn between bitter hatred and sympathy.

“If Hamish is well when all of this is over, I will share your sentiment. Until then, I cannot pity him.” Sherlock replied.  


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the beginning of the end of this story. I promise a lot of loose ends will be tied up and I am planning a sequel in which the Baker Street Boys help Loki to recuperate and get his children back...minus Hamish of course.

The air was heavy with electricity when Loki awoke, and he immediately let out a hiss. Hamish started at the sound and sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“What’s wrong?” Hamish yawned, looking exhausted and gaunt. Loki gritted his teeth and his eyes scanned the area around them.

“Thor is nearby. I can practically smell the thunder.” Loki growled, standing up and adjusting his cape with a snap. Hamish made a small noise and curled up on their blankets again, desperate for sleep.

“Get up child, now is not the time for sleep. If Thor is indeed nearby, we must be ready to flee at a moment’s notice.” Loki snapped, and Hamish stood shakily. He was pale and wan, but neither he nor Loki seemed to notice. The constant use of magic was taking its toll on the young boy, and Loki hadn’t really taken into account the fact that he had learned at such a pace with access to an enormous feast every meal of the day.

“This is no way to treat your son brother.” Thor growled, stepping out of the shadows. Loki gasped and tried to lunge for Hamish in an effort to disappear, but Mjolnir was flung at him and Loki slammed against a snow covered tree with a groan of pain. Hamish cowered and stared up at Thor with wide eyes, desperately trying to conjure enough magic to throw him back like he had to Sherlock. But Thor was stronger than Sherlock, and so Hamish only exhausted himself.

“Leave me alone!” Hamish wailed as Thor drew closer, now visibly shaking. Thor stopped a few feet from Hamish and took a knee.

“I do not wish to harm you child. I am your uncle. I only come to give you a gift.” Thor smiled, taking a golden apple out from a small satchel he had at his side. Hamish eyed the apple warily, but hunger won out and he snatched the apple from Thor and scurried away again. Loki’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the fruit.

“Thor how did you get that?” Loki hissed. Thor looked at Loki with disgust.

“I told mother of this child’s situation, once Heimdall told me. Mother gave me permission to bring him an apple.” Thor explained. Hamish sank his teeth into the golden fruit and moaned in appreciation as warm, sweet juice flooded his mouth. Immediately Hamish began to feel stronger, and the circles beneath his eyes faded as he chewed the soft white flesh of the apple. Within minutes the apple was gone, with the exception of the core, and Hamish was looking at Thor almost pleadingly. Thor chuckled.

“You may have another apple, but may I speak with you first? I promise I will not take you away from Loki. I just wish to have a word.” Thor said to Hamish. Hamish, who was sharp thanks to both his biological and adoptive father, could tell that there was nothing but honesty in Thor’s words. Hamish nodded, black curls bobbing as he did so, and the two moved out of Loki’s earshot.

“Hamish, your fathers wished for me to give this to you.” Thor said, taking a letter out from the satchel and handing it to Hamish. Hamish tore open the envelope without hesitation.

_My dearest Hamish,_

_My heart aches for you. I am sorry if I have ever committed some wrong, made you think that you are an experiment to me…you are the furthest thing from an experiment I could ever wish to have. You fill my life with joy and adventure, you give me purpose, and you make me strive every day to be the best father I can be. The first day I met you I knew immediately that we were meant to be together, the three of us. At the age of three and a half you were beyond intelligent, pointing out things that no child, not even myself, would have noticed. But you also had a heart of gold. The first time we took you out to the park you found a sparrow with a broken wing and begged John to fix it. Do you remember the day we let the bird go? You were so happy that it was able to fly again that you cried, and in childish innocence, unable to know that the sparrow was fully grown, you said ‘now he can go back to his Papa and Father too.’ That was the first time you ever called John and I by anything but our names._

_I cried that night, terrified that even with Mycroft’s influence, Uncle Greg’s wonderful personality reference, that we would not be allowed to take you into our home. But we were. And my life has never been the same. Yes, I may get angry with you when you do not listen, but never, never have I once regretted taking you into my home. I don’t care if you are not my son by blood, because you are my son in my heart. I hope that you understand how much I love you. Please come home Hamish. _

_All of my love,_

_Father_

Hamish’s eyes flooded with tears as he read the letter, and he sat down on the cold, hard ground and sniffled. Loki struggled to escape Mjolnir’s pinning weight, but was unable to do so, just as Thor had planned. Much of the plan had been Sherlock’s. Sherlock had said that if Hamish were able to be approached by someone friendly, somebody who Loki would not immediately run from, then maybe Hamish would listen. Maybe Hamish would accept the letters. But they had to make sure that Loki could not interfere, hiss silken words into Hamish’s ear and trick him again. Thor had suggested pinning him with Mjolnir, and thus the plan was set.

But the plan was working. Hamish felt a pang of longing for his father; he wanted to hear him play their favorite Bach sonata on his violin, to feel his long, thin fingers card through his hair when he woke up from a nightmare, sit in his lap and listen to the deep, baritone rumble of his voice as he read Hamish a bedtime story or a book on dinosaurs. A second letter was in the envelope though, so Hamish drew it out with shaking fingers.

_Hal,_

_I miss you. It’s been one month, two weeks, three days, and seven and a half hours since you were taken from us. Yes, I’ve been counting. Because I feel like if I don’t count it will feel more like forever than it does already. I’m scared Hamish. Yes, me, your big, strong, soldier dad is scared. Loki is a scary, and he took you from us. I know he’s making it seem like Father and I are bad guys, but Hamish…we love you so much. Remember how I promised you, the day we met, that I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you that I couldn’t stop? I’m trying to keep that promise now. Thor is Loki’s brother, and he knows how hurt Loki is, and he’s going to help him too…but let him help you first. If you want, Thor can take you back to us and help Loki feel better. If you want Thor to take you home, when you’re done reading this letter, ask him for another apple. When he gives it to you, take one bite and then go over to Loki. Give Loki a bite. That will be the signal. Thor won’t hurt you or Loki Hal. I promise. Be brave buddy. Please come home._

_I love you,_

_Papa_

Hamish started crying in earnest when he read John’s letter. John’s way of writing was simpler than Sherlock’s, short, sweet, and to the point, and the fact that John was scared for Hamish was the icing on the cake. Hamish hiccupped slightly and then turned to Thor.

“C-can I have another apple?” Hamish whispered. Thor smiled brightly and handed another apple to Hamish. Hamish took one bite and then scampered over to Loki, who was grinding his teeth in frustration.

“Here.” Hamish murmured, and allowed Loki to take a bite. Loki swallowed and smiled gratefully at Hamish, and then Mjolnir was being lifted up off of Loki’s chest. Thor picked Hamish up in one strong arm, and Hamish curled his hands into Thor’s cape. Loki screamed angrily and lunged for Hamish, but Thor swung Mjolnir and the two of them launched upward. Hamish let out a squeal of delight as they flew through the air.

Hamish was going home.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the last chapter of this series. I hope that you enjoyed it. I promise that there will be a sequel soon. I am dying to write about Hamish growing up, joining the Avengers, ect....so no, the Watson-Holmes clan is nowhere near being done in my works. Many thanks to everyone who read, commented, left me kudos, bookmarked, ect. A special thanks to the creator of the gif set that inspired this work (see the link at the bottom of the page).

John and Sherlock were storming through the Helicarrier the moment they received word that Thor had returned.

“HAMISH!” both of them screamed when they spotted the boy, and Sherlock was the first one there, his longer legs carrying him quickly. He dropped to his knees and gathered the boy in his arms, kisses peppering every inch of Hamish’s skin and hair he could reach. Hamish hugged Sherlock back tightly, crying on his own. His smaller hands wiped the tears off of Sherlock’s face and he nuzzled their noses together lightly.

“I missed you Daddy.” Hamish whispered, and Sherlock sobbed loudly. Hamish always called him Father, just as Sherlock had called his own father. The new, soft, familiar term made Sherlock shake with emotion, and if it hadn’t been for John’s strong arms bundling both of them up, Sherlock probably would have begun to cry harder than before. John kissed Hamish much like Sherlock had, tears rolling down his tan cheeks and his blue eyes bright with relief. Hamish squirmed and turned around to throw his arms around John’s neck as well. “Papa!” Hamish wailed, burying his face into John’s neck. The three of them sat there on the floor for a long time, drying each other’s tears, causing new ones, kissing and hugging and just reassuring each other that they were there. Sherlock almost growled when he took the opportunity to check Hamish over for injuries and found his ribs to be too easily felt, tender bruises, cuts and scrapes adorning various parts of his body, and the occasional sign of something darker, almost PTSD-like, lingering in Hamish’s eyes. Nobody mentioned that though, not now, as Sherlock carried Hamish to their bunk and the three of them fell asleep, Hamish curled up in a ball with Sherlock’s arm around him and his face tucked into John’s chest.

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Hamish awoke with a scream, a powerful blast of magic sending Sherlock flying back and John rocketing off of the bed. Sherlock clutched at the back of his head, nausea rising as it brought his nastier concussion symptoms back to the surface. John was the first to scramble back to Hamish, placing his hands on his shoulders as the boy continued to scream bloody murder and send things flying across the small room.

“Hamish, it’s okay! You’re here! It’s us.” John barked, and the tone of John’s voice was what made Hamish snap his crystalline eyes open.

“Papa.” Hamish whimpered, and immediately John was holding the boy, rocking him gently and whispering reassurances into his ear. Sherlock sat up slowly, and once he was sure he wasn’t going to be sick, he sat beside John and carded his fingers through Hamish’s curls. Hamish sniffled and moved so that his head was in Sherlock’s lap and his body in John’s. John continued to stroke Hamish’s back as Sherlock toyed gently with his hair. Sherlock and John exchanged a knowing look.

Hamish had lasting damage from being kidnapped.  

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“I can help him.” Natasha said quietly, practically materializing next to Sherlock as he watched John show Hamish around the cafeteria. Sherlock jumped and his eyes snapped to Natasha’s face.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock said, almost threateningly.

“Your son. He’s traumatized. No child should be forced to kill at that age. It will haunt him forever if he doesn’t find someone to help him now.” Natasha clarified, her face opening for once to reveal a sympathetic look. Sherlock’s blood ran cold.

“You went through something similar.” Sherlock said; not a question, but a statement. Natasha nodded and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

“I was young, very young when I was taken to the Red Room. I killed my first man at seven. My first friend at ten. SHIELD has given me counseling for the…lingering effects, but it is not necessarily the best option. Let me speak with your son, teach him the things that have helped me…perhaps he won’t wake up and throw you across the room next time.” Natasha offered, a faint smile curling her lips. Sherlock sighed and nodded in agreement.

“Very well then.” Sherlock replied stiffly before walking over to rejoin his family.

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It was three months before Hamish was deemed well enough to return back to 221B Baker Street. Sherlock and John had stayed on the Helicarrier with him the entire time, even when he had accidentally blown up an engine. Natasha had taught him about how to forgive himself, about how when you are manipulated and brainwashed your actions are not your own but the actions of the people pulling the strings, much like a puppeteer. Bruce taught Hamish self-control, and soon the boy stopped having incidents with his magic. Steve taught him about doing what was right, being the bigger man, especially when Loki was finally dragged back onto the Helicarrier by Thor and John put a gun to his head. Hamish had wanted to pull the trigger himself, but when Steve placed a hand on his shoulder he remembered, and then it was Hamish who pushed John’s gun away and hugged Loki carefully. Tony taught Hamish all about engineering and computer programming, keeping the young boy’s brilliant mind active for hours. Soon he had built a robot of his own, much more impressive than Dummy to Tony’s chagrin. Clint taught Hamish all about pranking people, and between Clint’s impressive stealth and Hamish’s magic, the two of them had pulled more pranks on the team, Sherlock, and John than anyone else had in their entire combined lives.

But the most important lessons learned were the ones that Sherlock and John taught Hamish. Their loving embraces, gentle kisses, bedtime stories, experiments, and games were everything Hamish needed to fully recover. Hamish knew that he had found his family, a safe, warm place where nothing bad could ever hurt him for long. Hamish screamed with joy when they told him they were going back to 221B, and he rushed around the Helicarrier, chattering away with the various agents and Avengers that had made his recovery so much easier.

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The Avengers didn’t hear much from the Watson-Holmes clan for a very long time, another five years in fact. It was growing dark in London when an explosion rocked Big Ben. People went screaming, another attacker coming to wreak havoc on the Earth. The Avengers had arrived on the scene only to find a short boy with curly, jet black hair and shocking blue eyes standing in the center of the chaos, pinning the head of the HYDRA attack to the ground with his foot.

“Hiya!” Hamish chirped from behind his black mask. “Did you miss me?”

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this GIF set: http://findthewalker.tumblr.com/post/31811292888/au-when-john-and-sherlock-adopted-their-son


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